Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess

They paused. Then, as best they could, they drew in great breaths of air, slowly savoring the melange of odors that filled the square.

Suddenly, the middle Jager opened his eyes wide. The one on the end sniffed a moment longer, then his eyes also bugged. The three monsters darted their eyes about, intensely examining each person in the square until, finally, they all found their target. They glanced at each other, excitement showing plainly in their eyes.

It was going to be a very interesting day indeed.

When Thundering Engine Woman caught sight of the gallows with its dangling Jagers, she stopped dead. “Okay. Right here will be perfect.” She dropped the handle of the small cart she had been hauling behind her and glanced at the ground, mentally measuring an open space to one side of the posts.

Agatha looked up and blanched. “Here? Are you kidding?”

The other girl shook her head. “Nope. When people see something like that, they start to wonder what’s going to happen to them. They’ll flock right in, and anything you tell them will seem a lot better in comparison. You’ll make a fortune.” She dragged the cart to a good spot and began to remove the canvas wrapping.

“That seems kind of... callous.”

The girl nodded as she tugged the last of the cover away. She folded it and set it on the grass, well away from the cart—now revealed as a complex crate made of polished wooden and brass slats. “Probably, but I shoot things for a living. If you want sensitivity, go talk to Andre. Now, watch carefully. You’ll have to do this yourself, next time.”

Agatha continued to stare at the Jagers. “But what did they do?”

Thundering Engine Woman snorted. “Be Jagermonsters and get captured. Doesn’t take a whole lot more than that around here.” She took hold of a pair of handles and pulled. Jointed poles unfolded and silk billowed.

Agatha bit her lip. “But—won’t the Baron be upset?”

At this, the old watchman, who had been leaning against a nearby wall, came toward them. “The Baron don’t care about them, Miss.”

The two women looked at him in surprise. Agatha would have sworn the man had been drowsing in the late-morning sun. “Sergeant Zulli, at your service, ladies,” he said, touching his polished helmet. His smile was indulgent, as though he were addressing children. “We’re too small and out of the way here.” He waved a hand at the tattered windsock. “It’s a rare event when we even see the Baron’s patrol ships overhead.”

“But still, if someone comes looking for them—”

“No need to fret about that, Miss. These fine fellows aren’t part of the Baron’s forces. What we’ve got here is a genuine pack of wild Jagers!”

Agatha stared at the three in surprise. They grinned down at her silently.

Zulli continued, “And to them with long memories, them what remembers the old Heterodynes, that makes these critters fair game.” He paused for a moment to look up at the captives. From the expression that settled on his face, Agatha guessed that the old guardsman’s memory was very long indeed.

“But Bill and Barry—”

Zulli snapped out of his reverie and smiled again. “Bless you, Miss. Of course they were the good ones.” He ran an appraising eye over her so frankly that Agatha blushed.” Young thing like you, they’re probably the only Heterodynes you know.” His eyes again looked into the distance, watching scenes that had happened long ago.

“But before them there were the old Heterodynes—The Masters of Mechanicsburg. Murdering devils, every one of them. The Jagers rode with them, back then, in a great howling horde. They’d come riding down, swarms of them, killing for sport, pillaging and looting, laying waste to whatever they couldn’t carry off. They made a point of hitting our town for tribute every four years or so, sure as the moonrise.”

As the old sergeant spoke, the Jagers, too, seemed to be looking into the past. Agatha watched them closely now, feeling a bit less sympathy than before.

“That’s what the old folks remember,” Zulli concluded. He pulled an obscenely carved pipe from his pocket and struck a match on the purple Jager’s boot, then puffed in satisfaction as he looked up at the three subdued creatures. “For them folks, living and dead, this is just an example of the wheels of justice grinding slow but fine.” The old man’s jovial mood seemed to have soured, and his face had set in hard lines. “Good day, ladies. Looking forward to your show.” He gave them an abrupt half-salute and strolled off.

Agatha continued to study the Jagers, who stared back at her solemnly. She felt an odd sense of betrayal. The Jagers back on Castle Wulfenbach had been... she paused in her thoughts, confused.

Well, she couldn’t really say they’d been especially kind, or terribly smart, or even particularly helpful... but she realized that she had liked them—been drawn to them. Trusted them. Trusted them to do what, exactly, she couldn’t say, but the fact was that she had felt comfortable around them. Now that she knew about her family, that made sense, but...

“I hadn’t ever really thought about the old Heterodynes,” she admitted. “I mean, I knew they were... bad, but nobody ever really talks about it.”

Thundering Engine Woman tacked up some loose bunting. “Yeah, well, Bill and Barry really redeemed the Heterodyne name. I think their family history is probably the reason they were always trying to do so much good.” She stepped back and examined the booth with a nod of satisfaction. “But people still scare their kids with stories about the Jagermonsters. They were—” she paused, and stared upward as if something had just caught her attention. “Actually, damn creepy is what they are.”

Agatha followed her gaze. “What do you mean?”

“They’ve been staring at you non-stop.” Agatha realized that this was true. They hadn’t taken their eyes off her through the whole conversation with Sergeant Zulli. They were still watching her, silently, their expressions unreadable.

Agatha shivered. “Maybe we should set up somewhere else?”

“Too late.” The fortune-teller’s tent was completely unfolded now. Silken walls fluttered in the breeze, striped with deep blue and purple sprinkled with golden stars. Yeti had strolled up with a stack of signs under his massive arm, and was standing with his head tipped back, examining the setup. He selected a wooden board, and hung it on a pair of hooks outside the tent:

WHAT IS YOUR FATE?

Madame Olga

Mistress of

The science of

TELLURICOMNIVISUALIZATION

SEES ALL!

KNOWS ALL!

Thundering Engine Woman rubbed her hands together and grinned. “And look! Your first customer!”

It was true. Already standing in front of the booth was a shy-looking young woman in drab clothing, obviously trying to work up the courage to go in.

Agatha dithered, “But I’m not ready! I haven’t looked over my notes! I’ve only got part of my costume on!”

Thundering Engine Woman snorted. “You can put the finishing touches on later. Look, if they’ll believe I’m a real American, they’ll believe you’re a real fortuneteller.”

“You’re not a real American?” Agatha blinked in surprise. Thundering Engine Woman had long black braids, and was dressed in flashy beaded buckskins.

“Whoo. You are nervous. The real Thundering Engine Woman traveled with the Heterodyne Boys! How old do you think she’d be by now? I’m just an actress from Italy—but I tell them I’m from America and the crowds eat it up. They’ll swallow your act, too. Just remember they mostly want a sympathetic ear